To return to the Solemn Lines main-page, click >>
solemn lines
Big Larry's comments
Gwar!!!
American Lit Class
oh god no!
im in this class
and I feel like committing
suicide, so bored, so
hating every moment,
every second of this
damned, demented class.
its tormenting me, drawing
me thin working against the
very fabric of my existance.
waiting, watching, hoping
that time will fly by, wishing,
that I'd be free of this
cruelty towards man. finally just
as I reach for the rusty, dull blade,
the bell rings releaving me of this pain,
setting me free, and I almost float in the air,
not caring what comes next.
God
god. some say he's there,
others say he's make believe,
ans still others have no idea,
not a clue and they seem not
to care. I try to believe but
its hard, my parents brought
me up as a good christian boy,
but now... now I don't know if
he's real or not. I hope, hope
for all there is to hope with
that he's real, and above all
that he is a caring, kind God
that loves his children and saves
those who need saving.
End of the World
heritics. hypocrits. dark
blasphemies spoken in the
night. int the light of
day a good man, kind and
caring. a graicous man with
family and child. he seems
so good with mercy mild.
treats all with respect and
gains the loyalty of the world.
one by one the supicous fall
till all the world loves him,
praises him, worships him. then
the night comes and he changes.
all that was good becomes no
more. the kindness to cruelty.
the wife and child to slave
and demon. respect to contempt,
loyal worshippers ot frightened
slaves. God turns his blind
with broken heart, no longer
caring, the world falls apart.
Mortality
Days fly by, life draws short,
eyes grow cold, a last gasp
for breath. people die, people
you know, love, and care for,
you mourn and cry and wish they
were here but there not and nor
will they return, some wish it
were them in their loved one's
stead, but they still live, still
hurt for the lost. days fly by,
the hurt is forgotten untill the
bittersweet memories trickle in,
rekindling the hurt of the lost
and loved. finally on their death
bed, they gasp for air, nor at peace
for they will see the missed loved
ones once again.
Slayer
the man he comes with mace in
hand, ready for the unslaught
of brave and naive men rushing
for a doomed cause, rushing
towards their death. they yell
and scream, wailing battle cries
as the line draws nearer to the man.
swords swinging, shimmering, glistening
in the high noon sun. all attacks
blocked, all shields broken, man
after young man cut down and
blugeoned to death by the single
man with his bald mace. they turn
and run in fear, terror burning
in their eyes, the man with his
mace calmly strides after them
with a smile on his face for now
is his favorite part. the hunt for
the terrorized men then the slow
and meticuluos disembowelment at
the time of their capture. now he
runs with antisipation for he cannot
wait for the days to come.
The Philosipher
the ocean blue deep and calm. a man stares
into its depths, pondering the questions
that always pester him. Why do we die?
whe does the sun rise in the east and
set in the west? what is our purpose
on this earth? why do I feel so alone?
why does man pillage and plunder and rape
and murder for things that don't get carried
onto the next life? why does man hate and destroy
what they dont understand? why am I shunned for
asking what needs to be asked?... as the
man ponders these these questions looking
into the ocean he does not notice the
big burly sailors that creep up behind him.
they take him, beat him, and sneer and
jeer at him. they bind him, choke him,
till hes knocking on death's door. then they
parade him naked around the ship and the
others sneer and jeer at him. they spit
on himand slap and kick him. then with his
bloody body limp with exhausttion and
disgrace the sailors throw his shamed
shell into the ocean still bound and
gagged. then he slowly drowns never
to be seen nor heard from again.
Orcs
orcs, orcs everywhere and not a place to run.
with their giant axes and blades they march onward
too stupid to stop or to know where their going. I
smelled them a mile away and yet they surround me.
their pungent smell was everywhere and I cannot get
away!!! then I saw a remarkable thing I wish I'd never
seen. there stood the orcish queen amid her quarrelling
hoard. I wish I could say she stood there in regal
beauty but that would be a lie. Her clothes if you
Could them clothes were of roughly sewn pelts from
Wolves and rabbits. Her only weapon was her "royal"
Scepter which was fashioned of twisted pine and a
Green pebble shoved in the middle. Her face was like
Any other orc with a pushed nose and yellow protruding
Tusks, her eyes were large and grey filled with rage
And anger. Then she gave the order to attack and I kissed
My life goodbye but right before the hit a mage appeared
And sent a giant fireball hurling into the hoard.